<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>choices. (i can't make them) by writerofbaddecisions</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151267">choices. (i can't make them)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofbaddecisions/pseuds/writerofbaddecisions'>writerofbaddecisions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stop (you know i can't take it) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, No Beta We Die Like Ranboo's Memory :thumbs up: :smile:, PAIN., awesamdad, but technically - Awesamuncle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:20:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofbaddecisions/pseuds/writerofbaddecisions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was a soldier, the one's who sat on the sidelines to fix the machinery and weapons that they use. He learned straight out of the war, that if you keep someone in your heart, chances are that they will die.</p><p>He hasn't learned his lesson about that.</p><p>or </p><p>the story of a soldier and an uncle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(past), Sam | Awesamdude &amp; Phil Watson, Sam | Awesamdude &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sam | Awesamdude &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stop (you know i can't take it) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>choices. (i can't make them)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW!!! : Death, and that should be it!! please read the tags!!!</p><p>:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam's never been good at making choices, he's never really had to. He's grown up knowing exactly what he needed at all times, for machines, the different recipes, and components becoming like the back of his hand for him. The most important choices he makes are for things like food and clothing.<strike> This is a lie, he has taken the lives of his fellow soldiers and also tried to save them, but that is not important.</strike></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But his friends seem to be great at making them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Growing up, the only thing that kept him company was machines, he loved weaving his way through the machines and farms his father would make, feeling the powder of the Redstone stain his hands red after a while.  His face became imprinted by the mask and goggles he wore, after months upon years of never taking them off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's never really been the first choice, never been someone who was immediately thought of, for things other than machinery. He's okay with that, truly, he's okay with being the second choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least his machines wouldn't abandon him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's never made choices, that hangs his life in the balance, until now really. Sam knows that the three hearts tattooed across the back of his calloused hands were lies, as he was a creeper, he only had one life. He's never met Death until he was running across the SMP, heart racing with the message his robot had sent him a mere twenty seconds earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam Nook whispered to you: Components Damaged- Tubbo and TommyInnit in danger</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart pounds in his chest, as he races to save ~~his nephews~~ his kids, who he's just gotten back. He can't lose them when he's just saved them. Sam races across the SMP, flying over mountains and builds as he races to the hotel site. And his eye meets a sight that's horrifying to see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His old friend is trying to kill his family.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>( He's tinkering around with the bolts on Sam Nook when he hears Puffy open the door to his base. He turns around to greet her and is greeted with the sheep-hybrid carrying a worried look on her face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Are you okay, Sam......" She asked, walking around the messy base. The once, relatively organized base was a mess, to say the least. Bit and parts of the robot were strewn across the metal floor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam went back to tinkering around on Sam Nook, switching out the bolts along the chest, waiting for Puffy to give up and leave his base, but she didn't. He sighed and put down his screwdriver, getting up and stretching after days of sitting on the wooden bench. He asks Puffy,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Do you remember, back when we would babysit Wilbur and Tommy?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Puffy responded, "Of course I do! They were the highlight of my young years." Puffy pauses for a moment, wondering about the question. "But....what does that have to do with anything."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam took off his goggles and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, eyes more tired than he had realized. He whispered remorsefully, his voice suddenly beginning to waver,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Do you ever think........that maybe if we had stayed, that maybe Wilbur and Tommy wouldn't have ended up like this?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Maybe." Puffy replies, trying to remember the old days, when the SMP didn't exist.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"If I had made a different choice, I could've saved him Puffy."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span><strong>"I could've saved him."</strong> )</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He runs out into the open, danger be damned. He crosses his trident in front of the two kids, whose faces turn from panic to relief. Sam Nook sits on the side, chest components seemingly dead, as a heart of the sea lays in front of it. Bad walks out in front, sword dangling dangerously on his waist. Sam's known him for long enough to know that if the sword isn't on his back, it means danger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sam, you shouldn't be here." He says, voice laced with- was it concern? <em>or was it anger</em>. Sam thinks it's hilarious, that now Bad would be concerned about him, after countless attempts to murder him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was told you were threatening Tommy and Tubbo, I couldn't let that happen," Sam replies, desperately attempting to keep his voice calm, and not let the panic in him seep through it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Egg says he needs to die, Sam." Bad shoots back, voice calm and monotoned, terrifying Sam, who still wanted to remember the days when Bad was smiling out of happiness, not bloodlust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Egg doesn't know he's a child, Bad." Sam challenges, he won't let anything happen to the boys, not again. Bad takes out his sword from its holder, the blue of the diamond, gleaming in the bright sun. "He doesn't deserve to die." Sam continues, voice still calm, but slowly inching towards wavering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad walks forward and points the tip of the sword directly at Sam's neck, who doesn't flinch at the pinprick of pain on his neck. "Well, Someone needs to die here, Sam." Bad whispering the threat only close enough for the two old friends to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Sam was a soldier, the one's who sat on the sidelines to fix the machinery and weapons that they use. He learned straight out of the war, that if you keep someone in your heart, chances are that they will die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hasn't learned his lesson about that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was young when he met Techno, Phil, and Puffy, who all managed to pull each other out of the war, half-dead on their feet as they trudged back home. Phil, who gave him and Puffy two kids to take care of, and raise as their own as he and Techno went and conquered the world.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam remembers learning how to sing, just so he can help Wilbur, who began to learn how to strum Phil's old guitar. He remembers picking flowers with Puffy when the night sky was dark, and their nightmares matched the sky above them. He remembers letting Tommy and Wilbur play with his contraptions, watching their eyes light up with the movements of the pistons was the highlight of his day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He remembers teaching Wilbur how to light up the sky with his own bare hands, and he remembers comforting his old war friend, after *his own fucking actions* led Wilbur down the path of giving his father a sword.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sword and a skill that Sam put into his hands when the world was peaceful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He swears on his life when he sees the kids of the SMP cry at night, scream and shout at the world which was supposed to protect them.  When he watches Ranboo break-down in front of his eyes, insisting he’s fine, which reminds him of the soldiers who till their dying breath tell him they’re fine. When he watches Tommy flinch and straighten up when his voice raises, he remembers the soldiers and days where he had the same reaction and is horrified. When Tubbo tells him about the nukes meant to protect the one person he cares about, he tells the world that he will protect them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>H</span>
    <span>e will protect them because he couldn't do it then, <strong>he swears he'll do it now</strong>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If only they’ll let him help him, like the soldiers on the field he couldn’t save.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Kill- me then, Bad. Let- them live." Sam says, voice lingering with hints of desperation, if he needs to die to save them, then so be it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad seems to consider this offer, bloodlust still glimmering in his eyes. He moves the sword from Sam's neck, seemingly ready to surrender at the selfless act. He takes the sword and runs it through Sam's chest, nearly right next to his heart, letting the tip stick straight out of his armor. He might be imagining it, but he swears he hears Bad whisper to him, "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh fuck. Sam thinks, as the blood-loss starts registering in his head, he falls to the ground, legs unable to support him anymore. His eyes began to blur, the edges of his eyes becoming red, and the iron taste of blood in his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He nearly falls headfirst, losing his goggles and mask, not before Tommy and Tubbo are immediately at his side. They quickly turn him over, so the sun shines brightly in his eyes, as the blood pools softly underneath him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo tries to take off his bandana, ready to save the man who had done so much for him. But Sam lifts a shaky hand up at the boy and grabs the hand instead, forcing Tubbo to stop. Down his face, a small trickle of blood, flows down, crimson blood staining the wood of the prime path. Tubbo’s eyes well up with tears, which trickle down his Snowchester outfit, deepening the shades of brown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"D-don't save me, it's fi-fine." Sam mutters, head lolling in a different direction. He understands those soldiers now, he understands their decisions to let the world take it’s turn, and take them. <em>He won’t be missed…..he’ll be collateral. </em> He grasps Tommy's hand with his free hand and turns the crying boy's attention to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm-i'm sor-y tha- I can't h-elp with th-e ho-tel any-more." He whispers to the kid, who grasps his clammy, cold hand with a vigor that turns it white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's fine- Sam, I'll- be okay," Tommy whispers, salty tears leaking down his face, as Sam seems to take this into consideration. <em>They-'ll be ok-okay</em> He thinks, death whispering in his ear, to grab his hand. To leave the mortal world. <em>They-'ll be ok-okay, Puf-fy wil-l take ca-re of th-em.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam's face lolls to the side a bit, his eyes, normally bright with ideas, and passion, now dimmed with death. His heart stops beating, his chest grows silent. His grasp on the two boy's hands slowly falls to the ground, as his breath began to slow to a snail's pace, before stopping completely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>( He wakes up, not in the sterile beds of the infirmary, or on the prime path, but in the clouds. His chest still pains with the crimson hole that stands out, in his golden armor. Sam slowly stands up, looking around the area. He realizes something rather quickly,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This was the SMP.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A ghostly figure walks up to him, arms bound with a bouquet of haphazardly collected flowers. Its hair is a light grey, curled over one eye, and he wears a torn brown coat, with a yellow sweater that reminds him of Ghostbur. The figure reminds him of Tommy, its smile grows bright, and it races up to him, it clicks inside Sam's head-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's Wilbur.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's Wilbur, who he remembers singing lullabies about the stars too, who he remembers teaching how to light up the night with the glow of TNT.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's Wilbur, whose name Tommy once called him, sobbing into his chest after a nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's Wilbur, whose voice cracks and wavers, tears building up within his eyes, and whispers, "Thank you, Sam." The message is short, but bittersweet, as Wilbur breaks down in his uncle's arms, while they sit on top of the clouds.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's Sam, who rubs his nephew's back, muttering to himself, "I'm sorry, I left him." They sit there for a while, crying into each other's shoulders as their own moralities become apparent. )</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's never been good at making choices, they've always been terrible to him, or great. His choices have never been big, or life-threatening, until now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the news grows far and wide across the SMP, about Sam who sacrificed his life to save the duo, whose faces held stories of war and conflict, who was self-less in his demise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks he's made the right choice, as he watches the world go on without him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>History will not remember his name, but the sheep warden with a pirate's wardrobe, a king with a bloody ax, and a father with torn-up wings will. A kid with a green bandana and another with a stolen welder's goggles will too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>After all, he didn't win. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>